It was her house now, albeit by rental from Aunt Cara. She let her eyes glide across the creamy-white and ocean-blue walls of the small rooms, along the fireplace mantel where sat silver-framed photographs of the Rutledge family that went back generations in Charleston, across the shabby-chic white slipcovered furniture.

Linnea feared she wouldn’t be able to stay here any longer. She dug through her purse and pulled her phone to her ear. Within moments, the familiar voice of Cara answered.

“Hello, Sweet-tea. You’re home early today.”

Linnea loved the nickname her aunt had called her since she was little. “I, uh… was let off early. Can you come over? I have to talk to you.”

A pause. Then in a more cautious tone, “Of course. I have to get Hope gathered. She has a doctor’s appointment. I’ll be there in ten.”

Linnea tucked her phone away and strode directly to her bedroom. Sunlight poured in across the pine floors and oriental rugs. Her gaze swept the view of the ocean beyond; seeing it, she felt an immediate connection. Bolstered, she unzipped her pencil skirt and laid it on the mahogany four-poster bed that dominated the small bedroom. A simple skirt and crisp blouse constituted her uniform at the South Carolina Aquarium where she worked as the conservation education director. It was a style adopted from Cara.

Linnea had been Cara’s assistant at the aquarium. After Cara resigned, the position as education director was offered to her. It was her dream job. Linnea loved teaching and inspiring others, as she had been taught and inspired by the women in her life. Though Linnea emulated Cara’s sleek dress at work, at home she changed into her favored vintage look.

She went to the bathroom and, with efficient movements, washed the makeup from her face, then unpinned her blond hair, letting it fall to her shoulders. Scratching her head vigorously, she tried to shake off the tension that had held her taut since the news. Feeling a bit better, she put on cuffed jeans and a worn pink sweater, finally stepping into blush Capezio ballet slippers, a favorite since she’d taken ballet lessons as a girl.

Feeling more comfortable, she went out onto the porch from her bedroom and took in the view of sea and sky. The power of the vista had a calming effect. Then, hearing the crunch of tires on the driveway, Linnea hurried down the deck stairs and rounded the house to the driveway to see Cara’s car parked there.

“Thank you for coming!” Linnea called out.

Cara’s long legs, encased in black jeans, slid out from the car. She offered a quick wave. “I can only stay a moment. I was on my way out for Hope’s physical.”

Linnea waited while Cara removed her precocious six-year-old from her car seat. Hope’s dark hair was tied in two braids and she wore a blue-gingham smocked dress.

“You look like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz,” Linnea said, placing a kiss on Hope’s cheek.